


The City's Ours Until The Fall

by NotAnAngel97



Series: In Any Place in Time, You Are Mine [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Actual plot, Art Dealer!Napoleon, As in an actual puppy, Humour, Light Smut, M/M, Maybe I lied, Mild Smut, No one is more surprised than I am, Puppy Love, Quelle surprise, Sassy, Smut, Snark, Spy Stuff, U.N.C.L.E.!Illya, Who I love, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAnAngel97/pseuds/NotAnAngel97
Summary: Illya needs to gain access to an exclusive party for a mission. Guess who happens to have an invitation?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'm alive? Sorry for the vanishing act, I just started college and then I had writer's block, which is a bitch, am I right?
> 
> It's time for spy!Napoleon to make an appearance, don't you think?
> 
> Title inspired by 'New Americana,' by the wonderful Halsey. Shout out to my wonderful beta and partner in sin Roostertease_it (Any Voltron/Achievement Hunter fans should check her out)
> 
> Yup, still not mine, I'm making some calls.

Illya was finding it difficult to remember a time he had been more frustrated. His latest mission was proving more difficult than they had previously thought it to be and Illya was at his wits end. Highly sensitive stolen documents were reported to be in the hands of an extremely wealthy individual here in New York. These documents held the identities of undercover agents embedded in THRUSH. UNCLE knew exactly where they were being stored. But unfortunately, Illya and Gaby were at a loss on how to get past the impenetrable security guarding the entrance to that building in particular. Time was of the essence; the documents were said to be sold within the week.

That lead to an extremely frustrated Illya pouring over mission briefings while an irate Gaby shot down all his ideas over a poor Skype connection. Gaby was stuck in London recuperating from broken ribs, meaning Illya was working this mission solo. And he was floundering.

‘Perhaps I could enter as accountant with Wayne & Sons.’ Illya mused. ‘Their firm is based out of floors 48 and 49 of Elysian Tower.’ Gaby was already shaking her head.

‘That still doesn’t solve the problem of how you get to floor 95. You’ll only have access to floor 90.’

Illya groaned. This was absolutely infuriating. Normally, this sort of mission would have been Gaby’s job. Illya was more suited to physically taxing missions, leaving this sneaking about business to Gaby. The last mission in which he was tasked with reconnaissance, he had been discovered by a Chihuahua and left seven guards incapacitated, before essentially kidnapping the man who would later become his lover. Not exactly the low-key approach these sorts of missions required. He dropped his head into his hands in despair.

He startled when he heard a door slam shut behind him. It must be Napoleon, returning from his evening run. Glancing behind him to confirm, he caught a brief glimpse of Napoleon’s sweating form, panting heavily. Before he had the chance to say hello, he was tackled by their quickly growing pup. Gaby was giggling through the laptop speakers as Clark decided to let Illya know exactly how much he missed him in the last forty minutes. Heavy white paws rested on his shoulders, pinning Illya to the couch. Clark’s tongue licked a long stripe up Illya’s cheek. Illya made a face at the stench of dog breath.

Napoleon chuckled at the sight of his two wolves sprawled on the couch. Illya was batting at Clark, but Napoleon could tell his heart wasn’t in it. His Illya was such a softie at heart. Taking mercy on Illya, he whistled sharply. Clark’s head shot up and he hurdled off the couch. Bounding up to Napoleon, he jumped back onto his hind legs to rest his front paws on Napoleon’s still-heaving chest. God, he was getting so _big_! Napoleon staggered under the sudden weight.

‘Come along Clark, let’s get you some water. Leave Illya to his secret spy business.’ Napoleon cajoled, ruffling Clark’s fluffy ears. He pressed a kiss to the top of the pup’s head and gently pushed Clark down. Grinning at Illya’s fond snort, he directed Clark towards the kitchen. Illya took to righting himself on the couch, endeavouring to restore order to the disarray of pages scattered by Clark’s enthusiasm.

Noticing Clark’s water bowl was empty, he carried it to the sink, ignoring the pup’s whines. He ducked his own head under the stream of water first, desperate to cool down. Rivulets of water streamed down his face, dripping onto the hardwood floors. That was unfortunate.

Filling Clark’s water bowl to the brim, he set it back down. Clark, as he did with many things, pounced at it, enthusiastically. Shaking his head fondly at the pup’s antics, Napoleon returned to the living room. Illya was cursing in Russian. Napoleon smirked, leaning against the door frame. Illya was hot when he was frustrated.

‘I don’t think you understand, Illya!’ Gaby was getting frustrated now with Illya's obstinence, her German accent becoming more pronounced. ‘The only way past floor 90 of the Elysian is by invitation. And unfortunately, U.N.C.L.E. doesn’t have one.’

‘But I do.’ Napoleon offered. Illya’ head snapped around comically fast.

‘What do you mean, you have an invitation?’ Illya demanded. Napoleon shrugged nonchalantly.

‘A client invited me to a party at the Elysian. You know, network with potential clients, promote the business, that sort of thing. It’s on floor 95.’ Napoleon could see the gears churning in Illya’s head. He grinned. ‘That invitation included a plus one.’

Illya ground his teeth together as he thought it through. He was reluctant to involve Napoleon in his work. He wasn’t trained for this world and had already been dragged into it before, against his will. But U.N.C.L.E. needed to recover that intel, and fast. Agents’ lives were in danger. This looked like the only possible solution. Without even a curt goodbye to Gaby, Illya slammed the lid of his laptop shut. Napoleon started at the sudden display of aggression. The grin on his face slipped away, replaced by uncertainty.

‘I don’t understand. I can help. That’s a good thing, right?’ Napoleon asked. Illya sighed and beckoned Napoleon forward. Napoleon cautiously approached him. Illya forced a feeble smile onto his face.

‘I understand you wish to help. But I do not wish to involve you in my work, Napoleon. It could be dangerous.’ He explained. Napoleon quirked one corner of his lip up in a reassuring smile.

‘I’ll be fine.’ Napoleon assured him, leaning over the still seated Illya. He braced his hands against the back of couch, and dipped his head down. His sopping curls clung to his forehead and dripped onto Illya. He pressed his lips to Illya’s in a chaste kiss. ‘After all, I have you to protect me.’

Illya groaned, letting his head flop back. He didn’t like this one bit.

‘Fine.’ He bit out, conceding to Napoleon. ‘But there is condition. You will do exactly as I say. If I tell you to follow me, leave me or shut up, you do so.’ Napoleon beamed and pushed away from Illya.

‘Excellent. Now, I’m going to go for a shower and tomorrow we visit my tailor.’ Illya raised an eyebrow. Napoleon simply scoffed at him. ‘If you think I’m bringing you to the Elysian in any of your suits, you’ve got another think coming.’

‘I am beginning to regret this already.’ Illya grumbled, standing up and pulling his shirt off in one fluid moment. He frowned at Napoleon’s bemused expression. ‘What are you waiting for? Get into shower.’ He ordered. Napoleon tipped him a sloppy salute.

‘Sir, yes sir.’ He threw over his shoulder as he _sauntered_ from the room; his sweat-laden black muscle tee tossed carelessly behind him. Illya rolled his eyes to the heavens. What was he going to do with his brat?

Well, he had a few ideas.

 

Casting a final glance at the full-length mirror, Napoleon let himself smirk. Damn, he looked good. He straightened his bow-tie and smoothed his already smooth hair back. He raised his arm and checked his watch. They were going to be late. What was keeping Illya? He strode out of the walk-in wardrobe, adjusting his cufflinks, (a surprisingly tasteful gift from Illya for their three month anniversary, he was actually too adorable) as he went.

‘Illya, do you actually plan on getting there tonight or…’ Napoleon trailed off as he caught sight of Illya. Or rather, Illya in a tux and looking damn fine. He practically oozed style and elegance. He was standing at the full-length windows, staring out at the light-up city below. Napoleon’s mouth was suddenly dry. Illya caught his eye in the reflection of the glass and had the audacity to smirk, the bastard. The dark fabric of the trousers stretched tight across Illya’s ass. He looked incredible. Of course, Napoleon might be somewhat biased.

Illya turned to face him, slowly, in order to further tease Napoleon. The only flaw in his gorgeous appearance was the bow tie dangling from around his neck. Napoleon raised an eyebrow in question and Illya ducked his head. A faint blush blossomed across his cheeks.

‘Well, well. You clean up well, darling.’ Napoleon murmured, stalking closer for a better look. He let his hands drift to Illya’s shoulders. ‘But it seems you missed something.’ He would deny it to his dying day, but he loved being shorter than Illya. Napoleon had never had a lover taller than him before and he loved having to strain slightly to kiss Illya. He had a kink, sue him.  

‘Let me get that for you.’ Napoleon’s nimble fingers grasped the dangling ends of Illya’s bowtie and with sure movements, began looping it together. Illya’s gaze was hungry, as Napoleon pulled him closer. They were pressed chest to chest, groin to groin. Illya’s breathing became more rapid. It made Napoleon grin smugly. He loved winding up Illya like this, loved that he had the power to wind Illya up like this.

‘The trick to tying a bowtie,’ Napoleon explained, voice low. ‘Is not to force it. Cajole it. Tease it.’ Giving the finished knot a quick tug, he dragged Illya even closer still. Illya growled and caught Napoleon’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Napoleon moaned into the kiss, raising his freed hands to cup Illya’s jaw. Illya caught Napoleon’s bottom lip and give it a nip, before breaking off the kiss.

‘You said something about being late.’ Napoleon whined pathetically, pushing Illya away.

‘Tease.’ He grumbled. Grabbing his jacket he left draped on the bed, he shrugged it on. ‘You know, I’m seriously reconsidering letting you leave this apartment looking like that.’ He added nonchalantly. Illya raised an eyebrow and smirked.

‘Is this so? And how might you persuade me to stay?’ Illya purred. This time it was Illya stalking Napoleon, backing him up to the bed. It went straight to Napoleon’s groin. He forced himself to swallow.

‘I’m sure I could think of something.’

‘I’m sure you could. You and that smart mouth of yours.’ Illya’s lips brushed Napoleon’s ear. ‘And later, you will show me how smart that mouth is.’ Napoleon’s knees nearly buckled right there. Illya was so close, it was intoxicating. Napoleon just wanted to rip that gorgeous tux right off him and have him fuck him right there and then. But then Illya was pulling away, eliciting a whimper from Napoleon. Illya’s eyes were alight with mirth.

‘But that is later. Now we must go.’ Illya, quite literally, _swanned_ out of the room.

Napoleon never thought he could hate someone the way he hated Illya right now.

 

The function room of the Elysian was designed with the intention to overwhelm. One wall was entirely comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breath-taking view onto Central Park below, even at night. The other walls were a startling shade of white. They hosted a bizarre range of paintings, with no discernible pattern, as far as Illya could tell. A large glass chandelier spiralled from the ceiling, hanging so low that people had to duck under the dangling crystals. The floor was made of glittering white marble, which reflected the dancing flickers of light from the chandelier. It was bright, it was tacky and Illya hated it.

Napoleon hated it too. Illya could tell by the way his jaw clenched when they had entered the room, along with an outraged mutter about putting a Ma Jir Bo next to finger paintings, or something of that nature. But Napoleon was Napoleon. He had quickly adopted a suitably indifferent mask to the apparent art tragedy surrounding them.

Snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing server, Napoleon sipped from one while handing the other to Illya. Illya was about to protest (after all, this was a mission) when Napoleon shook his head minutely. Leaning close so that only Illya could hear him, he whispered in his ear.

‘This might be your mission, Illya, but this is my world. Trust me, not having a drink will just invite questions. Half these people make a profession out of drinking. Pretend to sip it, if you have to.’ Napoleon punctuated his point by raising the flute to his lips and taking a brief swallow. Illya grit his teeth, but followed suit.

As he did so, Illya studied the room. Two guards at the main doors, another by the side door. That side door is where Illya needed to get through. Security cameras appeared to be focused on the main entrance. He just needed a distraction to draw away the guard’s attention.

Napoleon’s hand came to rest on his elbow, startling Illya out of his planning. Glancing down at him, he saw Napoleon force a fake smile onto his face, before stepping forward. Only then did Illya notice the two people which had caught Napoleon’s attention. The man was late fifties, heavyset with greying hair. His shirt-buttons strained to burst. The woman hanging off his arm was young enough to be his daughter. Her designer gown hung off her bony frame. Napoleon shook the man’s hand firmly.

‘Marcus, pleasure to see you. And Mrs. Newbridge, you look absolutely exquisite this evening.’ The girl giggled as Napoleon’s hand reached for her own and he gently pressed a kiss to it. The giggle was high-pitched and irritated Illya to no end. Napoleon gestured to Illya.

‘This is my partner, Illya. Illya, this is Marcus and Chloe Newbridge. Marcus is on the board of directors for Triskel Auction House.’ Illya nodded his hello, offering his hand to Mr. Newbridge. The other man’s grip was firm; his eyes slid over Illya, studying him. Then with a booming laugh, he slapped his other hand against Illya’s elbow and released him. Napoleon wrapped an arm around Illya’s waist, pulling him close. Catching Chloe Newbridge’s crestfallen expression, Illya allowed himself a brief smirk. Illya never denied being possessive. And Napoleon was his.

‘Oughta known you batted for the other team too, Solo. Why haven’t I met your boy here before?’ Napoleon gave an easy laugh and shrugged.

‘Why limit myself, Marcus? And Illya’s away for work a lot. Not to mention this isn’t really his scene.’ Illya nodded his assent. Marcus hummed thoughtfully as he plucked a flute of champagne from a waiter and handed it to his wife, who was busy eyeing Napoleon the way a starving man eyed a feast.

‘I think I see Annalise Morgenstern over there, darling. Weren’t you dying to ask her about her trip to the Bahamas?’ Recognising when she was being dismissed, she pecked her husband on the cheek and batted her eyes at Napoleon.

‘I hope I see you soon, Mr. Solo.’ She giggled. Napoleon just quirked an eyebrow and gave her the patented ‘Napoleon Solo’ smirk that made ladies swoon.

‘I have to agree, Mrs. Newbridge.’ With what she must have assumed to be a coquettish wink, she was swanning off into the ground, stumbling slightly in her heels. Marcus grimaced slightly at the sight of his wife, before returning his attention to Napoleon.

‘I won’t keep you long Solo. Just wanted to say great work with locating that Turkish painting last month. You saved a lot of necks.’ Napoleon laughed off the compliment.

‘It was nothing really. Just a matter of knowing the right people.’

‘You’re too modest, Solo. Just letting you know that we are very grateful over at Triskel and will remember it in the future.’ Napoleon nodded in thanks, before Marcus turned his attention to Illya. ‘Illya, is that how you pronounce it? What is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Illya blinked for a moment, as his mind raced for an answer.

‘Illya here is an architect.’ Napoleon supplied smoothly, giving Illya a meaningful look.

‘Architect, yes.’ Illya nodded fervently. Marcus nodded politely. They chatted for a few moments, Napoleon diverting many personal questions with a quick reply or a laughing redirect.

‘And how did you two meet?’ Somehow, Illya didn’t think the ‘kidnapping then having wild sex in a car’ thing was something architects did frequently. Luckily, Napoleon saved him again.

‘We met at a party of a mutual friend. Actually, it’s a rather funny story. Illya, here,’ he patted him on the shoulder, ‘had a _little_ too much to drink, and mistook my car for his friend’s. Gave me quite the shock, I can tell you that, jumping into the passenger seat like that.’ Napoleon leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Illya’s lips. ‘Once I recovered from the surprise, I ended up giving him a spin home. And the rest, as they say, is history.’ Marcus let out a bellowing laugh.

‘You are one of a kind, Solo. I- hang on, is that Jeremy Steel over there? I’m terribly sorry, we have a business matter to discuss, you understand? I’m sure I’ll see you soon,  Solo, and it was a pleasure to meet you, Illya.’ Napoleon and Illya both shook Marcus’ hand and said their goodbyes.

Illya let out a sigh of relief as he moved off. That had been entertaining, to say the least, seeing this Napoleon. He was charming, suave and charismatic. He oozed appeal. It made Illya all the more privileged that he had the chance to see him with all his masks down, to know he had slipped passed every shield and seen the real Napoleon Solo. Seeing Napoleon noticed him staring, he coughed hastily.

‘I need distraction,’ Illya muttered, refocusing his attention the side door. Napoleon gave a low hum in acknowledgement. He let his gaze drift across the room before fixating on the bar.

‘I have an idea. Get ready to move.’ Napoleon murmured in reply. He cast an incorrigible smirk at Illya. ‘This whole spy business is rather fun. We should do this more often. Our own little date night.’ Illya groaned.

‘No, Napoleon.’ Illya stated firmly, his tone brooking no room for argument. Napoleon clapped him on the shoulder.

‘You’re absolutely right; we should definitely talk about it later.’ Before Illya had the chance to argue further, Napoleon was gone, slipping into the crowd. Illya watched him eagle-eyed as Napoleon drifted to the bar. Catching Illya’s eye, he cast him a broad smile. What happened next, happened so fast Illya nearly missed it.

Tossing a flirtatious wink at a young blonde man, Napoleon at the same moment, gave a quick smack to the ass of a drunken idiot wobbling at the bar, rudely clicking his fingers at the bartender. In that same second, Napoleon was moving again, vanishing into the crowd.

Illya stood stunned as the drunken moron swung around. His eyes fell upon the blonde man, in the process of returning the saucy wink to Napoleon. Outraged, the drunk raised his fist and struck the blonde right in the nose. There was a harsh crack, followed by a violent spurt of crimson blood. The blonde man, too angry to pause for a moment, returned the punch with a swift knee in the crotch. The two men fell upon each other in a vicious flurry of punches. The quartet trailed off, the crowd stood absolutely stunned and, Illya noticed out of the corner of his eye, the guard by the side door abandoned his post to break up the fight.

Trusting Napoleon, Illya began to move without delay. He kept one eye peeled on his little pup, as he bobbed and weaved against the insatiably curious crowd. The two met at the door, Napoleon beaming with an irascible smirk. Illya found himself responding with a fond grin. Napoleon pressed down the emergency bar, presenting the door open for Illya.

‘After you, darling.’ Illya rolled his eyes but obliged. Slipping through the door, he felt Napoleon duck in behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder. Napoleon eased the door closed behind them, cutting out the shrieks coming from the gaudy function room. Illya caught his wrist and yanked him close. Napoleon leaned in to press a kiss to Illya’s lips. Illya jerked his head away.

‘That was either genius or idiocy.’ Illya scolded. Napoleon stole a kiss anyway, brushing his lips against Illya’s jaw.

‘That is a finer line than you’d think. It worked, Illya. Just relax.’

Illya grimaces but let it go. Motioning at Napoleon to follow, Illya began to creep down the deserted hallway.

‘Office is at end of hall. We will have no more than four minutes to locate file before guard passes again.’ He slipped Napoleon a USB. ‘The moment we are inside, plug this into computer. It will download backdoor for U.N.C.L.E. into his network. U.N.C.L.E. techs will find passcode to safe.’ Napoleon twirled the USB between his nimble fingers.

‘This is so very James Bond.’ He remarked. Though he was clearly trying to hide it under his usual mask of suave indifference, Illya could see the childlike excitement bubbling behind those intelligent blue eyes. It was incredibly endearing; not that Illya would ever confess to thinking it.

The office door was locked, unsurprisingly. Illya slipped a lock-pick set out of his jacket and set to work on the lock. Napoleon watched him work with open curiosity, and another less obvious emotion lurking just behind that.

‘Will you teach me how to do that?’ He asked suddenly. Illya’s brows shot up and stopped for a second to stare at Napoleon.

‘Why would you wish to know how to pick locks?’ Illya watched Napoleon’s eyes darken for a moment, before he brushed it off and attempted to ease the tension.

‘It may prove to be a useful trick, what with all the trouble you seem to involve me in.’ He chuckled weakly, shrugging.

Illya averted his attention back to the lock and continued to fiddle with the mechanism. He had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what trouble Napoleon was referring to and why being able to pick locks would be of interest to him. Filing away the fact that he and Napoleon needed to have a _conversation_ about Owens in the near future, (how Illya hated _conversations_ ), he unlocked the door with an audible click.

Illya inched the door open, tucking away his lock-pick set. Groping along the wall, he flicked the light switch. The dark room was bathed in a warm glow. Illya gestured towards the desk, and Napoleon nodded in understanding.

He flicked the cap of the USB drive free to plug it into the laptop sitting open on the desk. Snow white clouds lazily drifted against the pale blue background. Napoleon leaned over the desk, the black fabric of his tux tight against his ass teasing Illya. Grimacing against the faint pooling of heat low in his abdomen, he was drawn to the single painting spanning the length of the wall behind the desk.

‘If you were to hide safe,’ Illya scoffed, ‘could you choose more obvious place?’ Napoleon raised an eyebrow and studied the painting with a critical eye.

‘I don’t know. This absolutely hideous monstrosity makes me want to avert my eyes and pretend that wall doesn’t exist.’ Illya snorted at Napoleon’s response. Napoleon moved around the desk to help Illya heft the painting off the wall and lower it to the floor. The dull steel door of a safe and a keypad greeted them.

‘Now what?’ Napoleon asked. Illya shrugged, checking his watch. Three minutes, four seconds.

‘We need U.N.C.L.E. to send passcode.’ He replied. Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

‘So we just wait?’ He asked, doubt lacing his tone. Illya’s fingers twitched impatiently. Two minutes, fifty-six seconds.

‘You have better plan?’ Napoleon eyed the safe thoughtfully.

‘I might.’

‘Oh, really. And what’s that?’ Napoleon hummed.

‘Unless I’m mistaken, this is a MBG Nova 7010 model. Used mostly by hotels. Some smaller gallery use them for storing valuables they need to access quickly, in case of fire for example.’ Illya shrugged; apparently, he didn’t see the relevance to any of this. Napoleon studied the keypad. ‘And because of that,’ Napoleon’s fingers danced across the pad, finally coming to hold his thumb and forefinger down on the 1 and 2 keys at the same time, ‘this model comes with an emergency unlock.’ Illya was stunned as the locked safe door opened with a click.

‘Where did you learn to do this?’ Napoleon shrugged, swinging the door open.

‘I have a friend over in an art insurance company. He told me galleries who use this model end up paying way more in insurance than a more secure safe would cost because of this standard failsafe. It’s interesting, actually-.’

Illya’s lips crushed against Napoleon’s, cutting off his last remark. Napoleon groaned into the kiss, hands stretching up to card through Illya’s hair. Illya let the kiss draw out for a moment, before reluctantly pulling back. He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch. One minute, twenty-seven.

‘We must hurry, my little гений (genius).’ Napoleon sighed in a dramatic fashion.

‘Spoilsport,’ he grumbled. He waved a hand towards the gaping safe door. ‘Be my guest.’

Illya rummaged methodically through the contents of the safe. Extracting a beige file, he gave it a cursory look, confirming that it was indeed the file in question. He slipped it into the folds of his suit jacket and eased the safe door shut with a click. He turned to Napoleon, who was grinning like the cat that got the cream.

‘Looks like mission accomplished.’ Illya returned the grin with a fond roll of his eyes. The discrete earpiece tucked unobtrusively behind his ear crackled to life.

‘Agent Kuryakin, the code to the safe-‘ Illya muted the earpiece and checked his watch. Fifty-eight seconds. UNCLE were getting lax. Illya should mention that to Waverly. With a smooth tug, he yanked the USB free of the laptop and slipped it into a pocket. Napoleon trailed after him as the two left the office, pausing to switch off the overhead light. Illya hastily bent to lock the door after them, fumbling with the tools slightly. Eventually, he heard a satisfying click, signalling the door was again locked.

As the two made to creep back to the party, the thud of heavy footsteps alerted them to the imminent arrival of a guard. Illya panicked, his eyes darting along the corridor, examining his options. They were limited; the nearest possible exit being at the far end of the corridor, from which the guard approached. Goals raced through Illya’s head. Disarm the guard. Escape with the file. Protect Napoleon.

Napoleon, who at the moment, knew exactly what had to be done. His hand latched onto the lapels of Illya’s jacket and he shoved him against the hall, hard. Illya let out a puff of air in surprise. In a single smooth motion, Napoleon slid to his knees and began to fiddle with Illya’s belt.

‘Napoleon!’ Illya hissed. His larger hands folded over Napoleon’s and he tried to wrench them away. ‘What do you think you are doing!?’ Napoleon shook off Illya’s grasp and before Illya could stop him again, he had the trousers opened. He flashed a grin up at Illya, but his eyes were serious.

‘I’m showing you how smart this mouth is. Trust me.’ With that, Napoleon yanked Illya’s cock free of his trousers and took it all in a single breath, right down to the base. Illya gasped at the sensation, panic and arousal battling furiously. His fingers curled into Napoleon’s hair; he didn’t know was he trying to push him away or pull him closer. The barest hint of teeth scraped at his length, and Illya bucked up.

‘Hey! What are- oh fuck!’

At that startled shout, Napoleon let Illya’s cock slip free, tumbling backwards with an exaggerated flail. Illya fumbled to cover himself, hastily stuffing his half-hard dick back in his pants. The security guard’s face was flushed, his eyes studying a suddenly fascinating spot of beige wall.

‘What do you two think you’re doing!?’ He exclaimed, still avoiding looking at them. Napoleon clambered to his feet, swaying a bit.

‘You know, I don’t think this is the men’s room.’ He slurred, sounding slightly surprised. He suddenly collapsed against Illya, clinging to him like an octopus. Illya wrapped an arm around his waist, staggering at the sudden weight. Napoleon was by no means a small man. In any way. Illya threw a rueful smile at the other man.

‘I’m sorry. We got lost, looking for somewhere… private.’

‘Yeah, well this area is off-limits to guests.’

‘Oh, I’m very sorry. I think I need to get him home anyway.’ The other man began to nod frantically as Napoleon nestled further into Illya, his lips mouthing along Illya’s jaw.

‘Yeah, I think so too. C’mon, I’ll show you out.’ The guard began to usher Illya and Napoleon down the corridor. He led them all the way back to the function room and helped them slip out the door unobtrusively. Illya couldn’t believe it. The security guard was essentially facilitating their escape.

Napoleon had the self-control to wait until they were clear of the Elysian tower’s lobby before releasing his iron-clad hold on Illya and bursting out in laughter.

‘Did you see his face?’ He wheezed, gasping for breath. ‘I thought he was going to catch fire, he was so red!’ Illya responded by grasping the shaking Napoleon by the nape of his neck and shoving him headfirst into the backseat of the taxi that had just drawn up alongside them. He shot what he hoped was a reassuring smile at the concerned cab driver and slid in next to Napoleon. Napoleon, who was sprawled against the far door of the taxi. Illya rattled off their address to the cab driver and slammed the door shut.

‘Lighten up, Illya. Everything’s fine, it worked.’ Napoleon cajoled, prodding a stiff Illya. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Illya leaned in close, grasping Napoleon by the chin and turning his head. His lips brushed Napoleon’s ear. He could feel Napoleon shivering slightly with anticipation.

‘You, my Маленький щенок (Little pup), still have job to finish.’ He dragged Napoleon’s hand to rest on his bulging crotch. He was still half-hard after Napoleon’s little stunt in the hallway. Napoleon licked his lips, showing the barest flicker of tongue. Illya kept one eye peeled on the cab driver as he nipped at Napoleon’s ear. Napoleon gave a full body shudder, and suppressed a throaty moan.

‘When we are home, you will suck me off.’ Illya promised, his murmur sending Napoleon’s pulse racing. He could feel it thrumming as his thumb rubbed small circles at the hollow of his throat. ‘You will suck me off until I come down your throat and you’ll swallow it all for me, won’t you, my Napoleon? Like a good щенок.’

A quick glance down showed Napoleon was growing hard. ‘And after I come, if you beg prettily enough, maybe I let you come too.’ Another peek at the cab driver; he couldn’t have looked more uninterested. Illya let his other hand drift up to Napoleon’s hair, burying his long fingers in their silky locks. ‘Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I play with you, keep you on edge until I am hard once more. Maybe after I fuck you, I let you come. Maybe.’

Napoleon was panting now, biting his lip to hold back moans. Illya gave Napoleon’s hair a sharp tug. Napoleon gasped indecently, giving an obscene groan. The cab driver’s shoulders stiffened and he cast an alarmed glance in the rear-view mirror. Illya allowed his lips to form a smug grin. Releasing his grip on Napoleon, he slid away from him, taking pleasure from his soft whine.

‘But that is when we get home.’ Illya declared, staring out of the window into the dark. He gave a low chuckle at Napoleon’s low grumbling.

‘I found the devil.’ Napoleon bemoaned, trying to will away his growing bulge. ‘I found him in a lover.’ Sometimes, Napoleon was convinced that Illya was literally his own personal devil, sent to drag him down to hell.

 

(Much later, as Illya was fucking him into the mattress, Napoleon had to admit; if this was hell, perhaps he didn’t mind the fall.)

**Author's Note:**

> So, thank you all for reading! Hopefully, the next fic won't have so long a wait! 
> 
> Fun fact: The Elysian tower is actually the tallest building in Ireland, based in my home city of Cork (represent!) By tallest building, I mean it has like 27 floors or something. 
> 
> Love kudos/comments so don't be shy!


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